


Beltane

by thenakednymph



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Beltane, M/M, Porn, This has been sitting on my computer for YEARS, have some porn, here, it's just porn, one day I'll actually finish something I write, today is not that day, why have I never posted it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Following Merlin through the forest at night leads Arthur to a magical celebration, a powerful rite, and captivating man he can't quite place.





	Beltane

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my autocorrect is less than functional so if you find an issues hit me up. Otherwise, enjoy.

Merlin has been dancing about all day, sunshine clinging to the bottom of his boots and it's driving Arthur insane. All questions about the source of his cheer are pleasantly and politely deflected or flat out ignored and Merlin returns merrily to work, humming from time to time. He sways on his feet with more grace than Arthur thinks he has a right to, the sway of his hips frustratingly distracting. The sheer secrecy of it all is madness and it has Arthur pacing in front of his window, spinning his ring thoughtfully. It's completely by accident he manages to catch Merlin as he slips across the courtyard at the end of the day, carefully avoiding the guards on their patrol. In the silence Arthur can hear them joking about the heat of the summer night from his open window as Merlin slides past like liquid shadow and it's so practiced and easy it leaves Arthur wonderng how many times his manservant has fled the walls of Camelot before. The thought is somewhat disconcerting.

It only takes Arthur a moment to make up his mind. Taking a quick mental note of the direction Merlin is headed, he snatches up his cloak and bolts after him.

 

~

 

Merlin vanishes quickly and quietly into the forest, feeling like he's walking on the wind until he's half skipping, half running through the trees. His magick pulls him forward like a golden thread knitted through his heart, pulsing with life and energy drawing him deeper into the forest.

For over an hour he makes his way deeper and deeper into the trees and away from Camelot, his steps light and fleeting until he barely seems to feel the ground under foot. Soon after he could hear bells tinkling in the air, feel the magick crawling along his skin and his heart leaps for the joy of it, laughter bubbling up inside him until it peals out into the night to the song of the bells, an extatic whoop of excitement and energy.

He bursts through the trees into an open clearing, shouts of merriment and welcome greeting him from the dancers twirling about the roaring fires, their cries rising to meet his as he stumbles into their waiting arms.

Many of the gathered dancers are bedecked with flowers, their skirts flaring with their movements, bells on their clothes and circled about their ankles laughing and singing out with every step of the dance. Friends and strangers alike embraced Merlin warmly, kissing him in delight, filling him with love and the raw power of their energy and magickk until he's drunk with it and his flushed cheeks ache from smiling.

Hands tease at his clothes, divesting him of them, pulling him naked into the dance and he lets them. With each circuit they make around the flames he's presented with a gift; a belt of bones and chimes, pants embroidered with leaping deer and acorns around the cuffs, bells to adorn his wrists and ankles, a woven crown of hawthorn and roses and mistletoe.

Somewhere amid the chaos he's painted with sigils, a broad triskellion stretching between his shoulder blades, spell-forms and runes running down his arms and chest, each thrumming with power.

Wine tingles against his tongue, incense burning and filling the air until it hangs thick with it, fogging the night. Candles and bonfires fill the clearing, piles of flowers built up in honor of the celebration. Long tables filled with honeyed cake, breads, candles, fresh vegetables, bannock, oat cakes, and a hundred other things lay stretched out across the grass. A verititable bounty in offering to the gods.

Silence falls, slow and somber, and Merlin turns. A woman, naked from the waist up save for her own paint and heavy jewelry cames to a stop before him. Delicate chains, thin as spider silk drip from her ears and throat, pooling about her neck like liquid gold and dipping low between her breasts. Thick rings circle her fingers, flashing in the light as she presents him with a worn black cloth and the crowd gathered around them begins to murmur softly.

Brown eyes blink up at Merlin from behind the white mask of a rabbit, smiling as he reverently takes the cloth from between her hands. He dips his head, pressing the fabric against his eyes, hands without faces helping him tie it back, waiting with baited breath.

As soon as the cloth is in place Merlin feels the fabric shift against his skin, the very air so charged with magick he doesn't need to begin the transmutation himself.

Beads of glass and wood and bits of bone jingle as they descend from the outer corners of the mask in long strings to sway above his shoulders. The fabric bleeds away leaving behind a trail of golden scales that flare up across his cheeks and forehead, shadowing his eyes. Twisted horns extend back over his head, his lips turning as black as hearts blood and his eyes burning a hot gold as his magick makes itself known.

Feathers and scales prickle down his neck and up into his hair, scales glittering along the back of his hands and down his spine. Everything about him flares gold in the firelight and a wild cheer goes up all around until the dancers are shouting his name.

Emrys has joined the dance.

 

~

 

It takes over an hour for Arthur to track Merlin even though he leaves a path a blind man could follow. He hadn't realized Merlin had traveled so far away from the castle, or that he was capable of moving so quickly. Some part of him is oddly impressed by his clumsy servants swiftness, another part laughs at the mile wide path Merlin leaves in his wake. Just as he's beginning to think Merlin's gone and gotten himself lost in the forest he practically trips across the final destination.

The sound reaches him before the light; the laughter and shouts, the high pitched trill of song and for a moment Arthur contemplates turning back, his hand working silently on the hilt of his sword, knowing he shouldn't be here. Something in the air feels wrong, the hair on his neck and arms standing upright, sweat dappling his skin in anticipation.

Finally he creeps forward, curiosity getting the better or him and crouching low, he moves further toward the light. Shadows flicker between the trees, cast from the glow of countless bonfires sending up a swath of light so wide and bright Arthur's amazed he didnt' see it from Camelot. Each fire is surrounded by dancers, the gods and goddesses, and creatures half man half beast weaving between them, moving in dizzying patterns, weaving in and out between the fires and each other. It's strikingly beautiful and for a moment Arthur is hit with a wave of longing so strong he forgets to breathe.

Some of the figures are odd, not quite human and as Arthur creeps closer he understands why. Each wear what looks to be a mask. He catches a glimpse of a wolf, a flash of an owl, a goat and a scattering of other animals he doesn't recognize. His breath catches in his throat when a monster of a man with the arms and head of a bear opens his mouth and roars and he realizes some of the dancers are half man, half beast.

Magick, he realizes, his body going cold. Magick is involved here. Understanding chills his blood and goosebumps ripple up his arms. He can almost taste it in the air it's so thick. In spite of himself Arthur finds he's afraid. His grip tightens on his sword, eyes on the man who's half bear and doesn't realize the dancers nearest to him have stopped, each staring at him in turn though he remains hidden out of sight beneath the trees. Their gazes are unnerving and Arthur realizes they're aware of his presence.

The silence has a ripple effect and one by one the dancers stop, like they know without speaking there's an intruder among them and silence falls utterly. It's more unnerving than the taste of magick on his tongue and Arthur's stomach twists painfully.

“Are you going to stand there watching all night?” Arthur spins around, drawing his sword on instinct, the blade hissing as he pulls it free. He turns on the man who’s crept up behind him, back peddling to put some distance between them and stumbling backwards into the light of the clearing. “Or are you going to join us?”

The man steps forward, slowly pursuing him and Arthur realizes as he's put distance between them, he’s backed into the clearing. The man smiles warmly, as if greeting an old friend and Arthur is both terrified and captivated by the sight of him.

Bright golden eyes glow out at him from beneath the sculpted brow of a dragon, clawed hands swathed in scales reaching for him. Sweat slicked skin glitters from beneath layers of bone and beads swathing his neck and draping down his sides, pants slung low with a beaded belt around his hips. Arthur aches at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” Arthur demands, but it comes out more of an awed whisper and he adjusts his grip on the sword.

The man smiles, head tilting to the side, eyes glittering around a secret. “My name is Emrys,” he says gently. Someone hisses behind Arthur and he glances over his shoulder, terror gripping him when he sees a man wearing the mask of a snake glaring at him, venom dripping from his fangs. Arthur can’t tell where the mask ends and the man begins.

He realizes he's been surrounded by some of the most frightening creatures he could have ever imagined. Except this isn't a fever dream. This is real.

Satyrs peer at him from between the figures, goblins, and centaurs and creatures he'd thought were only myths. Several women have bows drawn, or spears, figures from the Hunt glaring at him and Arthur knows he’s stumbled into something he can’t fight his way out of.

“It’s all right,” Emerys soothes and Arthur's surprised to find he’d come so close without him noticing. “No one here will hurt you.” The snake hisses again and Emrys shoots him a look before extending a hand to Arthur. “Will you join us?”

“The son of Uther is not welcome here.” A man wearing the mask of some kind of hawk snarls, his voice rising in a shout and several nod their agreement.

Emrys’ voice by contrast is perfectly calm, coaxing. “You’re right.” Arthur swallows thickly at the words, his stomach in knots. “Uther’s son is not welcome here.” Sharp gold eyes bore into Arthur’s and he wants to shrink under the weight of them.

As Emrys looked out over the crowd and away from Arthur, he manages to pull a deep breath like that of a drowning man.

“But Arthur Ygraine-son is.” Arthur's eyes chase those of Emrys at that and something inside him shifts. “Were he not welcome here the wards would not have allowed it,” he goes on, studying Arthur almost appreciatively. “But it would appear his destiny is greater than that of his father's.” He smiles around the words and Arthur feels almost proud. Emrys turns an accusatory stare on the man who'd spoken. “Would you deny him that right?” His voice thrums with power, a direct and blatant challens that reverberates through the ground as if the earth itself is responding to his words and the hawk dips his head under Emrys' gaze.

“No,” the hawk murmurs abashed. “All are welcome within the circle.” It doesn’t seem to Arthur like he means it, but the crowd turns, a few throwing look over their shoulders at Arthur before returning to their revely and moments later he's left alone with Emrys. The music begins again, low and dark, thrumming with drums that pale in comparison to the raw power that vibrated in Emrys' voice just moments ago.

Arthur feels small by comparison, small and frightened and he swallows thickly. “Magick is outlawed in Camelot,” he rasps out, feeling stupid as soon as he’s said it, the words more rhetoric than anything. Years of living with Uther has made magick a hard thing to accept, even in what is now his own kingdom.

Emrys laughs, quiet and light, his head tilting to the side, beads swaying and clinking together. “Is it?” he asks gently. “And what do you propose to do about that?” He steps closer, circling Arthur, their shoulders brushing, hand trailing across Arthur's back. “Are you going to arrest us?” he asks and Arthur can feel the teeth behind the smile. “Are you going to burn us at the stake Arthur Pendragon?” he hisses in Arthur's ear making him shiver. “We are hundreds...and tonight we are powerful.” His breath ghosted along Arthur’s skin, the last word making him shiver with all the hate it carries and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end.

“Even you of all people must feel it, must feel the magick.” Emrys steps away, coming to face Arthur again, his expression sad, his shoulders sagging and he looks so very tired. “Tonight is a time of celebration Arthur,” he murmurs, Arthur's name intimate and familiar on his lips. “Please,” he pleads, “we should not shed blood this night.” He shakes his head slowly, something like regret flicking across his face beneath the mask. “I do not wish to hurt you. And I would not see you come to harm here.” He steps to the side, gesturing out into the forest with one arm, his voice cool. “You are free to go.”

Sword still in hand Arthur hesitates, glancing between Emrys and the forest. Emrys sighs as if disappointed. “And if you’re thinking of coming back with a contingent of guards, let me tell you something.” He clasps his hands together. “You may search the woods all night and never find us. You will travel in circles, lost until morning at which point we will be gone, vanished like the early mist burned off by the sun and you may return to your illusion that there is no magick in Camelot- but please,” he rests his hand lightly on Arthur’s arm and when did he get so close again? “Let us have this night,” he pleads. “It’s important.”

Overcome with curiosity Arthur can't help asking. “Why?”

Emrys smiles, eyes alight with laughter. “Stay and find out,” he teases.

“Magick is evil.” The words came unbidden and Arthur regrets speaking them at the look of sorrow and pain that crosses Emrys’ face. The feeling of...betrayal. He withdraws his hand and Arthur fights the urge to reach for him again.

“Do you really believe that?” Emrys whispers and if Arthur didn't know any better he'd say there were tears in the man's eyes. Arthur doesn't know what to say. “Please,” Emrys begs softly, “let me show you. Magick is not evil. It is life and it is love and it is filled with such glory and wonder as you could never begin to dream of.” His hand covers the one Arthur has wrapped around his sword, lowering it carefully, his voice filled with passion and reverence. “There is so much more too it than you've been shown. Please, let me show you.”

“How?” Arthur’s voice is choked and he doesn’t know why but there are tears in his eyes. He's tired of living with the poison of his father’s words festering in his heart, tired of fighting for a cause he isn't sure he believes in anymore. The sword feels heavy in his hand.

He lets Emrys gently lift the blade from his fingers, holding it carefully between them like a barrier, the sword resting on his upturned palms. Once again he gives Arthur the chance to walk away.

“Dance with us,” he pleads still holding the sword aloft. “Let us help you.”

Arthur’s fingers ghost along the length of blade, whispering against the naked skin of Emrys’ palm. He's barely aware of agreeing to stay when he whispers, “all right.”

At his words the sword vanishes from between their hands and Emrys smiles, twining his fingers with Arthur’s and pulling him into the circle.

“Then welcome to the dance Arthur, son of Ygraine.”

 

~

 

Emrys leads Arthur through the dance and many welcome him, seeing his presence as a harbinger of change, of hope, though a few left the rite entirely and Emrys mourns their loss.

“Their hatred has been the cause of so much bloodshed between our peoples,” Emrys’ says when Arthur notes their departure. “There are wrong on both sides.”

Arthur manages to keep his pants but is speedily divested of his shirt and boots, Emrys whispering encouragement and faith in his ear all the while, soothing his fear. Sigils are painted across his chest and arms, Emrys doing a select amount of the work, weaving spells of protection about him until Rabbit approaches, a swath of fabric in her hands.

“What’s this?” Arthur asks when he sees it and Emrys smiles, taking the mask in hand.

“A gift, for all who enter the dance. It is a thing of magick,” he says meaning it as both a warning and an explanation. “If you are to stay we ask that you would wear it.” He studies Arthur’s face, his expression somber. “I will give you one last chance and no more. Once I ask, I will not ask again and you are bonded to the rite, a part of it, until its final completion.” Arthur isn’t sure what he's getting himself into, but he can’t bring himself to leave. “Do you wish to leave,” Emrys asks, his words interwoven with power as the light in his eyes flares. “Or do you choose to stay?” He holds the mask aloft between them the way he held the sword, offering it. “The choice must be yours and of your own free will.”

Arthur hadn’t been expecting to answer aloud and he quaveres briefly before lifting his chin and steeling his resolve. “I would choose to stay.”

“Then be welcomed Arthur Pendragon, Ygraineson.” Rabbit steps forward. “Some here would deny you your father; they have their reasons.” She looks sadly over the crowd. “Not I. You are the son of both Ygraine and Uther and much of your merit comes from your father, I will not deny you that. But you would be wise to follow in the wisdom of your mother.” She kisses him on the mouth and a cheer goes up, several others stepping forward to welcome him. Emrys’ hand rest gently against Arthur’s back, offering reassurance.

“What does she mean? What does any of this have to do with Ygraine?” he asks when they have a free moment, turning to Emrys for answers. “With my mother?”

“In time,” he says, touching Arthur with a spell to gently redirect his mind. It's like shifting the stones in a stream to alter the flow of water, so does Emrys alter the flow of Arthur’s thoughts. In time they'll return to them, but not now, not tonight.

“They’re sharing themselves with you,” Emrys explains as another man comes up, sharing a kiss with Arthur. Pressed along Arthur's side he whispers in his ear and Arthur finds himself comforted by his presence. “Their magick, their energy. It will help you, give you strength for the dance. Alone we are weak, together, we are united; tonight we are strong.”

He leans around Arthur to catch a look at his face, one hand trailing up his spine. “Can you feel it?” he asks.

Arthur flexes his fingers. He feels dizzy, light headed, but his pulse races, blood pumping through his veins to the beat of the people around him and the earth beneath his bare feet. He can almost hear them, their hearts beating in time together all as one. He's never felt its like.

“What is it?” He lifts his hand, turning it around, staring at it as if seeing it for the first time. “I feel…drunk.” He laughs, continuing to study his hand. He can feel something, clinging to his skin, dancing along it, like electricity, vibrating through his body and his breath comes in ragged gasps with every pulse of the magick singing through him.

Emrys steps closer, pressing against Arthur's side, one hand resting on his hip, his lips to his ear. “Magick,” he breathes and gooseflesh ripples across Arthur's arms.

Draping the mask from one hand Emrys reaches around Arthur, lifting the fabric to his eyes. “Be not afraid,” he whisperes as Arthur tenses beneath him, “all is well.” Emrys ties off the cloth, feeding it a thread of power and the fabric begins to shift and take shape. Arthur jerks in surprise and Emrys steadies him, hands on either side of him as the fabric thins, taking shape and Arthur can see again.

A crown of antlers rise from the wreath of Arthur's hair, spreading wide in the air above him, trailing strands of beads and delicate chains that glitter in the light. His cheekbones grow higher, blending into the flickering ears of a deer, soft fur covering his forehead.

“I don’t feel any different,” Arthur says, turning to face Emrys who laughs in sheer delight, throwing his head back. He clasps Arthur in an embrace, kissing him in joy, before taking his hands and turning them about in a circle, presenting Arthur to the assembly. Similar cries go up all around them and Arthur shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t understand, what’s happened?” he asks.

“A stag,” Emrys' voice lilts and he practically glows with affection. He reaches out and touches the horns, as thick and real as any deer’s. “Not even the horned god would disapprove this night.” Emrys' eyes sparkled with mirth. “It is a sign Arthur. And a good one. Truly, we are blessed this night.”

The cadence of the drums and pipes shift and Arthur feels his heart leap with them. Rabbit takes up one of his hands, Emrys the other and the dance begins.

~

Arthur remembers little of the dance itself, but he remembers skin and heat and the heady taste of wine pressed to his lips. Sex and lust hang heavy in the air as Rabbit leads him up a short earthen ramp, a fire roaring to either side. The heat makes the air shimmer before them and sucks the air from the space around them. Rabbit smiles at Arthur and somehow the expression soothes his trepidation and he trusts. Sweat glistening on her body she gives his hand a squeeze before turning and leaping through the flames with a wild cry.

There are lips on Arthur's ear, whispering, “don't be afraid” and Emrys takes his hand in his. Arthur clings tightly to him and together they leap across the fire, the flames licking at Arthur's bare feet and for a terrifying moment he thinks he's going to burn.

A moment later Arthur stumbles as they land, falling to his knees on impact, joints stinging, but Emrys alights with the grace of a cat. He lifts Arthur, pulling him away as others make the jump

“What was that?” Arthur pants, letting Emrys pull him along.

“A cleansing, celebrating the rebirth of the seasons. Out of the old and into the new.” There's a sing song lilt to his voice and Arthur can hear it dancing in his head, spinning round and round like the lights when he's had too much to drink.

He's trembling with adrenaline, swaying on his feet and Emrys wraps his arms around him, helping to ground and balance him. His eyes are smiling as he watches others land on the ground where they had been moments before, shouts of celebration coming from the others as each new dancer makes the leap.

Arthur blinks at him, captivated by the light bathing his skin. The very air around him seems to glitter, alive with magick. As if Emrys senses him staring, he turns, that smile focusing solely on Arthur and his heart skips.

All he can think about is the flush on Emrys' lips, how warm and full they look and how badly he wants to kiss him. The need is almost overwhelming and Arthur can't see a reason to fight it. Emrys kisses him tenderly, reverently, hands still laced around Arthur's waist, but he's holding back, Arthur can feel it. He leans into the kiss, one hand splaying across Emrys' lower back, gripping at sweat-slick muscles, pulling him closer, grinding their hips together. His other hand drifts up from Emrys' hip to skim along his jaw, coaxing his head up. Emrys bends under him, supple as a willow branch and Arthur moans into the kiss. Emrys' lips part without thought, drawing Arthur's tongue into his mouth, tugging on his lips with teeth.

Arthur can feel Emrys' breath against his lips and tries to seek them out again but Emrys pulls back.

“Arthur,” he breathes, and why does that sound so familiar? His lashes flutter against his cheeks, like Emrys doesn't want to open them, afraid it will all be nothing but a dream, but finally he does, stroking Arthur's cheek fondly. Arthur blinks at him, trying to think clearly through the lust but the kiss and the wine have left him addled. “You don't have to do this,” Emrys whispers, fingers still running along Arthur's face and neck as if memorizing him.

“Maybe I want to.” He presses the words against Emrys' lips, but Emrys pulls away, just enough.

“Are you-?” he asks, still unsure.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

All around them people are dispersing, some looking for more private places in the forest, others content to lay their lovers down beside the fire. Music continues to linger in the air but without a source as Arthur urges Emrys' to the ground, kissing his throat, the music low and thrumming, pulsing through the earth beneath them, the sound and feel of it intoxicating.

Emrys tastes like spiced wine and magick and Arthur never knew it could have a taste, but he can't stop kissing him, tasting him, trying to pull that magick deeper inside himself. Emrys arches beneath him as Arthur rolls his hips, Emrys murmuring his name in a whispered litany like he's a god, his hands stroking along Arthur's chest. His fingers flick over a nipple and Arthur groans.

Emrys sits up, forcing Arthur back so he can press his mouth to the planes of his chest, twining their legs together and rolling him over. He covers Arhtur's nipple into his mouth, pulling at it with lips and tongue and Arthur's hand fists in his hair as Emrys strokes a hand over his ribs. He rakes his teeth over Arthur's skin, the nipple pebbling before Emrys soothes it with his tongue. Arthur whines, his grip in Emrys' hair tightening, twitching beneath him, unable to stay still.

On his hands and knees crouched over him Emrys can't help but stare, stroking his knuckles down Arthur's cheek, thumb stroking over his lips in wonder. Arthur turns his head, catching Emrys' fingers in his mouth, running his tongue along them and Emrys tips his head back with a groan, pushing against Arthur's tongue in a steady rhythm, his hips jerking with the movement and Arthur pulls his Emrys' down tighter against his.

Sliding his fingers free Emrys lets Arthur yanks him down into a kiss, limbs tangling until their bodies are flush against one another, twining himself around him, nails raking along Emrys' back and Emrys sinks his teeth into Arthur's throat in warning.

Arthur slides their legs together, his hips already moving in a stuttering rhythm, building the friction between them. Bracing his weight on his forearms Emrys grinds their cocks together, Arthur releasing a string of incoherent sounds as Emrys sucks a bruising kiss to his throat in promise.

Sitting up Emrys undoes his laces, Arthur whining at the loss of contact, his back arching and his hands falling to Emrys' thighs. Emrys silences him with a biting kiss, pulling on Arthur's laces blindly, tugging his trousers down his thighs, taking the time to strip him entirely inspire of his lust. The sight of Arthur laid bare and wanting beneath him takes Emrys' breath and it takes him a moment to recover, but then he's bending forward, running his tongue up the length of Arthur's cock, unable to resist and Arthur's head thumps back against the ground, his chest heaving.

A thousand promises linger behind Emrys' lips as he stares down at Arthur, declarations of love and wonder and awe all trapped inside him, but words seem to pale in comparison to what he feels for the man beneath him so he says nothing.

Instead he kisses Arthur fiercely, pressing his love and devotion and faith into his mouth and hopes Arthur will understand. He can't help the silent confession he whispers against Arthur's lips, tears in his lashes he prays Arthur won't notice.

Finally divested of their clothing Emrys takes them both in hand and Arthur makes the most delightful sound, nails raking down Emrys' back leaving trails of fire as Emrys begins to stroke them, Arthur thrusting up into his fist with a series of wet pants.

Arthur's hands slide up and down Emrys' body, restless and unable to settle as a tense heat pools behind his spine. Emrys kisses him as he comes, swallowing his cries, like he knows the exact moment he reaches the edge and Arthur weeps at the magick that fills him flaring out into the night, floating in the air around them, blanketing them both.

Emrys kisses him through his orgasm, pressing wordless confessions to his mouth, his throat, his heart, before turning and cradling him in his arms.

Arthur doesn't know how long they lay wrapped in the embrace, only that he never wants to let go. When he looks up there are points of light drifting in the field and he's left feeling empty and cold. Emrys clutches him more tightly as if to fill the hollow space in his chest but tears still prick at Arthur's eyes. He lifts a hand and one of the orbs comes to hover above his upturned palm, spinning first one direction, then the other. Emrys sits up beside him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“It's life,” he says to some unspoken question and Arthur's lips form a silent 'oh'. The orb darts away, burrowing into the ground and Arthur stares in wonder at the hundreds of them dancing through the grass, each blinking out one by one.

“We give our magick, our love, out life to the earth. Tonight she is reborn.” He turns and stares at Arthur, his gaze searching and all Arthur can do is stare back. “Thank you, for sharing that with us. With me.” For a moment they watch the lights together, like stars coming to alight in the grass, but Arthur feels cold and bereft for reasons he can't begin to understand and soon allows Emrys to pull him back down to the grass, reveling in the warmth around him.

“Sleep,” Emrys urges, kissing his ear and Arthur does.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Now, where the fuck did I put chapter two...


End file.
